


What Cannot Be Betrayed

by NortheasternWind



Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games)
Genre: Cultural Differences, LaCE-Compliant, Multi, POV Alternating, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, but not much it's mostly celebrimbor so far, celebrimbor is less of an asshole but definitely trying to give off the wise and traveled elf vibe, fun with osanwe, to celebrimbor's immense dismay and later bafflement
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24891160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NortheasternWind/pseuds/NortheasternWind
Summary: Celebrimbor, repudiating his family's deeds and with nowhere else to go, flees east to the Black Gate. A god damn fantasy AU featuring polyamory, cultural differences, and Celebrimbor feeling like Talion is a flawless hero and husband who could never possibly love him.
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Talion (Shadow of Mordor), Ioreth/Talion (Shadow of Mordor)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to ben for the title i owe u my life
> 
> So you know how people take a modern fandom and make up a fantasy world to put the characters in? This is that, but instead of moving them through space I just moved them through time. As a result, even though the place names are technically the same, many.... many things no longer have any reason to be the way they are. To wit:
> 
> 1\. This is the First Age, but Gondor and the Black Gate exist somehow. Sauron does indeed live in Mordor.  
> 2\. All the Fëanorians are still alive, including the big man himself.  
> 3\. Luthien's done her thing, though Celebrimbor doesn't really know how that turned out because he left.
> 
> So if you're sitting here being like wait, who built the Black Gate in the first place and why, when Sauron's arrival is probably super recent? The answer is: there is no answer! I just wanted to write babies in love, Brent.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Sorry for the short chapters, I try to write in blurbs because perfect is the enemy of done for me, oops.

Talion has never been out west, where the elves dwelt and labored under the shadow of a dark lord unknown to him, but he has heard tales— of warriors and smiths and brave maidens who stride into the dark for love. And most importantly, he knows what an elf is.

So when a beautiful man with pointed ears and a gait so smooth and steady he almost seems a dream arrives at the Black Gate, Talion knows enough to be immensely surprised.

“You are far from home, Sir Elf,” he calls down to the stranger.

The elf looks up at him and Talion is struck by the color of his eyes— deep blue, more like thick ice than sky or sea.

“Indeed I am,” he agrees, in a voice not at all like Talion expected.

“What business have you in the land of Mordor?”

“None at all,” the elf answers. “But I’ve a sword and a bow and the skill to use them, and if you have need of extra hands then I have those as well.”

“You can hardly expect me to believe you are here merely to offer aid,” Talion says. He has heard that the elves are the sworn enemies of the Dark Lord and that he despises them with all his might, but where those under his protection are concerned he will take no chances.

The elf hesitates. It is difficult to tell his expression from atop the Gate.

“I have been disinherited from my family,” he says at length, “and now flee east from their wrath. They will not think to look for me here, but I know not what to do with myself.”

“Sounds an awful lot like most of us,” a soldier behind him mutters. Talion considers: the elf could be lying to get into their good graces, but the soldier is right, and Talion finds himself loath to turn the elf away.

“What is your name?” he calls down.

“Nalkhûn.”

“That is absolutely a lie,” a different soldier says sardonically. But Talion shakes his head.

“If he is fleeing enemies then he may keep his name,” Talion says quietly to them. “Let him in! You have chosen a strange sanctuary, Nalkhûn.”

“But a worthy one, I think,” the elf says, and steps forward.


	2. Chapter 2

The captain of the garrison is named Talion. He has a wife and a son, his men trust him with their lives, and he allowed Celebrimbor to stay despite knowing that he had almost certainly given a false name. The rest he must judge for himself, but Celebrimbor already holds a favorable opinion of the man.

Predictably Celebrimbor is not entrusted with any important duties for quite some time, and what duties he does have he only performs under supervision, but he is a curiosity in these lands and quickly endears himself to most of the garrison. They ask all manner of strange questions, but both parties quickly find that many things they may have assumed to be similar between them are in fact not, so Celebrimbor decides not to take offense to some of the sillier inquiries.

When he discovers that they have a forge— and of course they have a forge, what was he thinking, they are on the frontier— it becomes difficult for them to tear him away from it. He tries not to become associated with the forge yet again, but he enjoys it so, and they appreciate his work, and eventually he becomes as well known for his metalworking as for his blood.

Any forgework on the frontier must be of use, so there is little opportunity for him to work on frivolous projects for his own pleasure, but there is always something satisfying in work that is intended to be used. He admits to himself that… it grates, having his skill attributed to his elven blood rather than so many years of experience. But then, for a mortal people such as they, long experience and elven blood must go hand in hand, so he resolves to overcome this bitterness and appreciate their gratitude for what it is.

His life develops thus: Celebrimbor gets frequent night watch, owing to his ability to remain awake much longer than the others. He maintains the weapons and armor of the Rangers and soldiers upon the Black Gate in the daylight. Once it is discovered that he is an excellent archer and can see much farther than his mortal comrades he occasionally goes on routine outings to replenish their supplies, and Celebrimbor learns much of the flora and fauna of the land they call Mordor.

Celebrimbor has never been to Utumno, stars forbid. But somehow Mordor seems less frightening.

“You’re adjusting well,” the captain notes one nightwatch.

That is not so unexpected; the journey here was long enough that Celebrimbor had plenty of time to become accustomed to living as a common man rather than a prince. But still:

“Perhaps you mistake a lack of complaint for a lack of difficulty,” he suggests. “Beggars can hardly be choosers.”

At once the captain’s face is shaped in concern. “Have you had difficulty? Is there anything I can do?”

For a moment Celebrimbor struggles to find an answer, caught off guard. “No, I am quite well, thank you. Apparently it is a common failure of my people to answer both yes and no to every inquiry.”

The captain laughs, a surprisingly cheerful sound from a man of such grim surroundings. “I will remember. But anyway, I’m glad to hear it. You’ve been a great help, despite the fact that there is nothing keeping you here with us.”

“I am not going to desert you in the middle of the night.”

“I know,” the captain says, surprising Celebrimbor again. “That was a careless remark. I’m sorry.”

Celebrimbor laughs a little helplessly, and the captain’s answering smile is a little less solemn.

“No one comes to the Black Gate willingly,” he says, stepping to Celebrimbor’s side so they may look out over Mordor together. “Many of us are criminals, or have angered people with power enough to send us away from safety. For most of us it’s a matter of public record, but you need not share if you don’t want to.”

“How much does it matter?”

“Not at all,” Captain Talion assures him. “How long you stay and why are no business of mine, but we do not turn away help on the frontier. You are welcome for as long as you wish to stay.”

Celebrimbor should thank him, but he cannot find it in himself to be relieved. He is far from his family and far from Morgoth, but he does not feel any safer within this stronghold than he did out in the wild. He is still surrounded, and alone.

“Or as long as the Gate holds,” he says at length.

Something in the captain’s gaze hardens. “As long as you remain here you are one of us. Even if the Gate falls we will protect each other.”

“That has not been my experience,” Celebrimbor tells him.

“Then you have lived in poor company, sir elf,” Talion says, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I will not say you have nothing to fear, Nalkhûn, but you are not friendless here. Take heart.”

“I will do my best, Captain,” Celebrimbor says dryly. “But I thank you for your concern.”

Talion smiles again, then cracks his neck and yawns. “Well, since I require sleep and you do not I think I will retire for the night. May yours be a safe watch, Nalkhûn.”

“And may you sleep well, Captain,” Celebrimbor answers, turning his gaze back to the dark of Mordor. “Goodnight.”


	3. Chapter 3

Celebrimbor finds that he enjoys the night watch. Forgework, of course, is more within his talents, but… Mordor is restless and dangerous enough that the night watch does not feel like a waste of time. It is usually quiet enough that he can catch up with his thoughts, and despite their proximity to the Dark Lord the stars still shine in a way they never had in Valinor.

He sings sometimes. At first he does so quietly, not wishing to disturb the rest of his companions, but as they approach him and confide that their sleep comes easier on nights when he sings he tries to do so more often. He is not like his uncle, who could have brought Sauron to tears or sing illusions into reality, but if he can ease the cares of those upon the Black Gate…

It is at this point that the captain begins joining him upon the wall. Talion is utterly dedicated to the safety and happiness of those under his care, and though the long years have taught him to find his rest Celebrimbor supposes he must still have nights where sleep eludes him.

“You are the leader of this encampment,” he stops singing to say, “and have no need to hide from your guests, captain.”

Talion emerges from the shadow of the tower like a ghost in the night. He is still in full armor.

“I enjoy your singing,” he admits. “Go on— I shall leave, if I am disturbing you.”

Celebrimbor smiles, turns his gaze back to the east and sings on, and from then on Talion is a regular companion during his night watch.

They do speak sometimes, both of news from the west and of the goings-on in the Black Gate, but more often they simply stand and watch the horizon in silence. It… It is a nice change, Celebrimbor admits, to the trappings of the court, or the company of other elves who expect him to defend himself, or any number of other situations where Celebrimbor must watch his words carefully. The effort Talion expects from him is of the kind he is only too happy to give, and does not seem to mind that some days Celebrimbor lapses into a long silence.

He is as good as his word, and does not ask from whence Celebrimbor came.

But some days Talion is clearly in need of company, and it is the least Celebrimbor can do to provide.

“Long day?” he asks, though he knows the answer already. There had been some shrieking and crying this morning, though Celebrimbor had been assured by others that it was no business of his and no threat to the others in the fortress, “for the most part,” one said sardonically.

Talion groans. “One of the civilians caught their spouse cheating, and naturally it is my duty to decide what will become of the perpetrator.”

Celebrimbor frowns. Cheating at what? It may be a turn of phrase, but Talion has not said enough for him to deduce what it is he means…

“What does that mean?” he asks outright, after a moment of trying and failing to figure it out on his own. “What did they catch their spouse doing?”

Talion gives him a strange, incredulous look, though it eases after a moment. “I suppose your people would have a different name for it. Someone caught their spouse making love to another, and such things are rather more dangerous on the Black Gate than they may have been elsewhere.”

For a moment Celebrimbor stares, because what Talion has said cannot be true. His entire life has been shaped by the Statute of Miriel, the decree of the gods, and for mortals to so easily discard it—

He must mean flirting, Celebrimbor then decides. But that makes little more sense; if they were married, surely they could not hope to hide such a betrayal from their spouse!

And regardless, whether Talion refers to verbal love-making or something rather more flagrant— 

“Why?” he asks, unable to keep confusion out of his voice. “How?”

Talion blinks, and the strange look returns. “Surely all peoples must have such dalliances, and not merely we mortals?”

Dalliances. To wed again, on a mere fancy…

“No,” Celebrimbor manages, though shock forces his voice rather higher than its usual pitch. “We— I cannot think of how that would even be possible, much less why one would bring such harm to one’s spouse.”

The captain grimaces. “It is indeed possible, and there are those who even delight in such betrayals— those who find pleasure not merely in the act itself, but in the knowledge that it is forbidden, and that to reveal it would cause others pain.

“But I doubt that was the case this time,” he goes on, probably noting the horrified expression Celebrimbor must wear. “I believe Damrod’s own selfish desires simply overpowered any care he may hold for the one he supposedly loves, and now he faces the consequences of breaking that trust forever.”

But why? Why? What could possibly have been worth hurting the one he treasured enough to marry? Idle flirting? Surely not, but the alternative...

“I don’t understand it either,” Talion says. “I have imagined sometimes how Ioreth and Dirhael would feel should I ever do such a thing, and I cannot imagine what could possibly be worth harming them so. I, at least, did not pledge my love and loyalty lightly.”

“Nor should you,” Celebrimbor agrees at once. “To have known someone so intimately, and then…”

Talion continues where Celebrimbor cannot. “Surely it cannot be so difficult to simply speak to one’s spouse about such things.”

“That was certainly my assumption.”

“Now their bond is sundered,” Talion says with a note of finality. “And for what?”

For the sake of another, Celebrimbor thinks. That is the only rationale his mind can provide: he must have married in haste, and then found the one he loved outside of that union. But even then…

“What of the… interloper?” he asks. “If the others share your opinion and your sense, then surely they will condemn Damrod. But what share of the burden does his partner hold?”

Talion’s mouth thins into a grim line. “When done knowingly? In the shadows, with full knowledge that the object of your desire is pledged to another?”

He leaves the rest for Celebrimbor to infer on his own.

“...What will you do?” he asks finally.

Talion sighs. “I have not decided yet. I need every sword I can spare, and yet to keep both perpetrators when the others are likely to despise them… It is selfish of me to say, for the difficulty this has brought me pales in comparison, but a part of me also feels betrayed.”

“A difficult situation. If only I had any insight to offer you…”

“If you have never heard of such a thing before I would not expect that from you,” the captain says. “But I will think of something. I thank you for listening, Nalkhûn.”

“Sir,” Celebrimbor answers. He has much to think about, that night.


	4. Chapter 4

There aren’t very many young ones on the Black Gate, which Celebrimbor considers a blessing. It grieves him to see so many families deprived of such a gift, but at least there are few children here to suffer for it.

The exceptions have fewer duties, and less to distract them from the novelty of their only elven neighbor. They watch surreptitiously as he outshoots all others at archery practice, and rather less surreptitiously as he smiths. Once Captain Talion persuades him to eat with the others the younger residents quickly make a habit of taking seats nearby, the better to listen to the stories he has to tell.

The captain’s son Dirhael is determined to become a ranger, much to his mother’s chagrin and his father’s uneasy pride. He is most interested in Celebrimbor’s skill as a warrior, which Celebrimbor tries to use for the benefit of the others: drawing a bow is exhausting, but Dirhael complains less when he knows Celebrimbor can hear.

“Do you think elves struggle as we do,” Dirhael asks one day, watching him at the forge. “And are simply better at it? Or are we truly like children to you?”

Celebrimbor considers his answer carefully; he does not wish to make Dirhael feel inadequate, or for an ill-conceived response to spread to the rest of the Black Gate.

“I do find myself wondering at what seems like the fragility of your kind,” he says. “I find simple many things others struggle with.”

“Why create one set of people to be so obviously greater than the other?” Dirhael asks irritably. “Why bother creating humans when we could instead be elves?”

This is not an uncommon question among men, Celebrimbor has found. He knows the answers the Valar would give by rote: that variety and weaknesses are all part of the Ilúvatar’s design, and that they must have faith in His intentions for both elves and men.

His family rejected that answer, and in doing so have condemned their people and all of Endor to face the Shadow alone. But even knowing this, Celebrimbor still cannot fault those who find this answer unsatisfying. Perhaps it is the right answer, but he suspects it will not bring comfort to Dirhael.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly instead. “If birds may fly, then why not us as well?”

“Do elves not know? I thought the elves had an answer for everything.”

“We do,” Celebrimbor says sardonically. “But some say that elves do not value people, or their feelings— that what we cherish is the theory of lofty ideals, and not the reality of them. We value honesty, even when it is brutal and needless; generosity, even at the cost of one’s health; contentment, even if it means giving up the chance to improve. We have no interest in consequences, and so many find our immortal wisdom to be hurtful and contrite.”

Dirhael frowns. “So why do elves say that humans are weak?”

“They say that your weaknesses are a blessing,” Celebrimbor says simply. “That age and death are gifts, and that those who do not want them simply do not understand them yet, or are ungrateful to the Ilúvatar for His generosity.”

Dirhael deadpans. “You know, I kind of like your non-answer better.”

Celebrimbor smiles. “I thought you might.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IN THIS ESSAY I WILL-


End file.
